


Leaving the Nest

by enigmaticblue



Series: Sun 'Verse [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-30
Updated: 2012-08-30
Packaged: 2017-11-13 04:05:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/499267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben's first hunting trip doesn't exactly go according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leaving the Nest

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hc_bingo prompt, "attacked by a creature"

Ben heard about the disappearances on accident, while he was getting groceries in town. He was debating between split peas and black beans—the list said “dried beans,” but didn’t specify what kind—and he heard Ernest say, “Did you hear about those disappearances near Deerfield Lake?”

 

His ears perked up, and he threw a bag of split peas and a bag of black beans in the basket before rounding the corner to see Ernest talking to Bill Conrad. “Hey,” he says. “You said something about disappearances?”

 

“Hey, Ben,” Ernest said. “How’s your daddy?”

 

“I think he’s feeling better,” Ben replied. “At least he was today. What’s that about disappearances?”

 

Ernest and Bill exchanged looks. “It’s just a rumor,” Bill replied. “There’s probably nothing to it.”

 

“I was just curious,” Ben replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “There isn’t much that happens around here. Was it campers or people passing through?”

 

“Campers,” Ernest replied. “People don’t have much call to pass by Deerfield Lake.”

 

“No, I guess they wouldn’t,” Ben said, knowing when not to press his luck. “I’ll see you soon. I have to get back.”

 

“You tell your dad we said hello,” Bill instructed. “And we hope he’s feeling better soon.”

 

Ben nodded. “I will. Thanks.”

 

“You’ve got plenty on your tab,” Miriam, Bill’s daughter, informed Ben when he went to check out. “Dad’s still grateful for Mr. Winchester fixing the refrigerator.”

 

Ben nodded. “Great. Thanks, Miriam.”

 

She smiled at him. “You should come over for dinner some time.”

 

Ben knew she was only asking because he was about the only guy her age in town that hadn’t left. He wasn’t sure how to explain that he was already taken.

 

“That’s okay, thanks,” he replied. “I’m really busy.”

 

Miriam smiled. “You can visit some other time.”

 

Ben felt his face heat. “Yeah. Maybe. See you.”

 

He escaped then, and headed home, the Jeep bouncing over the ruts and potholes, and Ben wondered if he had a chance at convincing his dad that he should be allowed to go on this hunt.

 

He arrived home and unloaded the groceries, then climbed the stairs.  Ben wasn’t sure where everybody else was, but the house was quiet and empty other than the sound of his dad coughing upstairs.

 

Ben rapped his knuckles on the doorframe. “Hey. I’m back.”

 

His dad managed a wan smile. “Hey, Ben. Come on in.”

 

“I got the groceries,” he said, glancing at Cas, who had a thick beard and dark circles under his eyes. “And I put them away.”

 

“Thanks,” his dad replied, his voice rough, and he started coughing again.

 

Ben saw his dad’s gaunt face and heard his hacking coughs, he saw the weariness in Cas’ eyes and the worry, and he knew he couldn’t bring up the hunting trip.

 

“Is Sam coming over?” Ben asked, thinking he could bring it up with Sam.

 

Cas shook his head. “No. Sam’s with Julia tonight. I told him he should go.”

 

“The kids?” he asked.

 

Cas shook his head. “Mary took them out. I think they’re going to camp outside tonight.”

 

Ben understood what Cas wasn’t saying, that Dean’s cough was keeping everyone up. “Okay. Should I get dinner started?”

 

“Maryanne was bringing something over,” Cas replied. “But thank you, Ben. It’s good of you to ask.”

 

“Thanks, son,” his dad managed, and then he’s wracked by another coughing fit.

 

Ben probably shouldn’t have retreated, but he did, because hearing his dad sound like that made him remember his mom, and the way her breath had caught in her chest as she lay dying on a mattress in their basement in Cicero.

 

Bobby had sounded like that, too, and he didn’t think Bobby had ever completely recovered from the nasty cold he’d gotten the first winter Ben had been with his dad.

 

Ben was getting older, but so was his dad, and one of these days, Ben might not have his dad anymore, just like he didn’t have his mom or Bobby. His dad had changed drastically from the man who’d come through Cicero, before his mom had called him.

 

Ben still remembered his dad the way he’d been that first day Ben had seen him, before the apocalypse—tall and strong, with squared shoulders and an even gait, and no silver in his hair. He couldn’t help but compare that man to the one in bed upstairs, his coughing shaking the bed and echoing through the house.

 

Ben couldn’t imagine life without his dad, but then, he hadn’t been able to imagine life without his mom either.

 

Maryanne came over that evening with dinner, as promised, but the kids were far more subdued than they usually were, and Cas came down only briefly to get a couple of plates and take them upstairs.

 

Ben joined Mary in her bedroom that night, after everyone had gone to bed, and there was just enough light to see her hands as she spoke.

 

“I don’t think you should go,” she signed.

 

Ben kept his voice low as he said, “I have to. Dad’s never going to let me go on a hunt, and people are disappearing. I have to go.”

 

“No.” Mary’s hands are vehement. “You can’t go.”

 

“I have to,” Ben insists. “Please, Mary, I have to go. I have to prove I can.”

 

“You don’t have to prove anything!” Mary protested.

 

“I have to prove I can take care of you all!” Ben said in a heated whisper. “I have to—” He broke off, and Mary reached for him and held him close, and kissed him.

 

The next morning, Ben slipped out of her bed, took one of the bikes, the little cash he had, his hunting rifle and knife, plenty of ammo, and his bedroll. He left a note on the kitchen table, and then he rolled the bike well away from the house, nearly to the road, before he started it up.

 

Ben was going on his first hunt alone.

 

~~~~~

 

Ben took his time getting there, not pushing too hard in an effort to conserve gas. The terrain was unfamiliar, because he’d only been to the Black Hills a couple of times. He’d snagged Henry’s atlas, so at least he had a map, but otherwise he had to rely on his instincts and whatever remaining road signs there were.

 

The silence pressed in on him, and the blue sky hung above. Ben wasn’t used to being alone; he wasn’t sure he’d been this alone since he’d waited in the basement of his childhood home with his mom’s body.

 

It wasn’t as freeing as he’d thought it would be. Ben was used to sitting in a deer blind, waiting for a shot. He wasn’t used to having the open road stretch out before him, or the prairie stretch out on either side, broken by the occasional stand of trees.

 

Then the prairie gave way to forested hills, and Ben followed the narrow, rocky road deep into the Black Hills.

 

That first night, Ben made a rough camp in the lee of a hill and built a small fire with dead wood he’d gathered. He ate a meal of bread and jerky and an apple, and stretched out on his sleeping bag.

 

It wasn’t like camping out at White River, which Ben had always liked. When they went as a family, Ben could hear his brothers next to him, and he knew that his dad and Cas—and now Sam—were close by. He could emerge from his tent in the morning and find Mary and Cas making breakfast.

 

Ben put an arm over his eyes, so homesick that he couldn’t take a breath. He’d wished for privacy so many times, and now that he had it, he couldn’t wait to go home. He missed hearing Sam breathing on the other side of the room. He missed Henry’s chatter, and Casey’s sarcasm, and Ryan and Cora’s mischief. He missed his dad’s hugs, and Cas’ steady presence.

 

He thought about going home but knew he couldn’t without at least _trying_ to track down the cause of the disappearances.

 

Ben put out the fire and tucked himself further back into the hillside, but he didn’t get much sleep that night.

 

~~~~~

 

The next morning, Ben woke from a light doze with the rising of the sun. He ate a light breakfast, and then began to look for signs that a creature had been through the area.

 

Ben hadn’t quite taken into account the fact that it had been a while since the last attack. Most of the trace had faded, making it nearly impossible to figure out what had gone after those campers. He found hoof prints for deer and elk, and some bear scat, as well as evidence of smaller animals, but nothing else.

 

Ben spent another night alone, staring up at the stars, hearing the sounds of insects and night creatures, feeling the darkness press upon him. He’d miscalculated on the amount of supplies he needed, and he was going to have to hunt soon if he didn’t want to go hungry.

 

It had been a long time since he’d gone hungry, and he knew he was lucky that way, but he wasn’t going to be in any shape to hunt if he didn’t keep himself fed.

 

Ben slept poorly that night. Every small sound woke him. The ground was too hard beneath him. He missed Mary so much it made his chest ache; he missed _everybody_ , but he missed her most of all.

 

The next morning, Ben cleared the camp, doing his best to obliterate any sign of his passage. He spent the morning searching for any sign of the creature and wished he had a better idea of what he was looking for.

 

Ben sighed. This trip was stupid; he’d heard enough of his dad’s stories that he knew even his dad usually did some research before striking out, and going alone…

 

He was going to have to do some hunting to provision himself for the trip home; he’d try for two more days, and then he’d go home. Too much longer, and his dad would probably get out of his sick bed and come looking for him, and that wouldn’t end well for anybody.

 

If there was anything Ben knew how to hunt, it was deer, and he found a creek with a lot of deer tracks. He found a tree with a good vantage point and shimmied up the trunk with his rifle slung across his back. He settled into the crook of a branch, his back against the trunk, keeping a loose grip on his rifle.

 

He was rewarded a few hours later, just as the sun was going down. A group of young bucks walked slowly into the clearing, approaching the creek.

 

Ben lifted his rifle and took aim at the smallest buck. The rifle report sent the other three running, but Ben’s target went down without so much as a twitch.

 

He climbed down, pulled off his jacket and t-shirt, and began the hard work dressing the carcass. Ben had just started bleeding it out when he heard a voice call out, “Is someone there? Help me!”

 

Ben froze. That sounded like a person, but he hadn’t seen any signs of people around here. “Hello?” he called. “Hello?”

 

“I’m scared!” The voice sounded so young, younger than Ben, as young as Ryan. “Help me!”

 

Ben swallowed hard. “Talk to me! I can’t find you if you don’t talk to me.”

 

“Please!”

 

Ben looked at the carcass, and then out at the surrounding woods. There was some instinct that was telling him it was a trick, but he couldn’t take that chance. He had to help.

 

“Hello?” he called again, putting his knife away and picking up his rifle. “Help me out, here.”

 

Ben heard a roar, the crack of a branch, and he whirled, but saw nothing. His palms were sweaty, his mouth was dry, and he’d had no idea what to do next.

 

He’d thought he knew what he was doing, but he didn’t. Hunting deer was an adrenalin high, sure, but he never feared for his life. Maybe something could go wrong, but it was a different kind of wrong than what he faced now.

 

Right now, no one knew where he was, and if something went wrong, he’d be long dead before they found him—if they ever did.

 

 _So stupid_.

 

But as long as there was the potential of someone needing his help, he’d keep searching.

 

Ben jogged through the woods, towards the sound, holding his rifle out in front of him. He saw the tracks and slowed abruptly, knowing that he had to be getting closer to the creature, and he paused to take stock of his surroundings.

 

He heard a growl from behind and brought his rifle up, but it was too late. He saw the claws come towards him and remembered nothing else.

 

~~~~~

 

Ben gained awareness slowly. Everything hurt—his head ached, his chest burned, and his leg throbbed.

 

“For the record, you’re an idiot.”

 

Ben groaned, recognizing the voice. “Uncle Sam?”

 

“Yeah, and you’re lucky I found your note, and I know how to deal with a wendigo,” Sam replied. His tone was harsh, but when he lifted Ben up to take a sip from his canteen, his hands were gentle. “You could have been killed.”

 

“I thought I could handle it,” Ben protested, and hissed at the pain.

 

Sam sighed. “Yeah, well, your dad and I took on a wendigo once, and it took both of us. That’s not something you want to take on solo.”

 

“Does Dad know?” Ben asked, feeling an icy fear.

 

“I told him you were going hunting,” Sam replied, settling Ben back onto his sleeping bag. “I didn’t say what you were hunting for, just that we might be gone for a few days.”

 

“Did you get it?” Ben asked, staring into the crackling flames of the campfire.

 

Sam poked the fire with a branch, then threw it in. “I killed it getting to you,” he admitted. “But I’ll tell Dean you helped.”

 

“I’m sorry, Uncle Sam,” Ben said. “I thought I could handle it.”

 

Sam shook his head. “I can’t count the number of times I’ve gone after something by myself,” he says, sounding angry. “How do you think I got this?” he points to his eye patch.

 

“I didn’t know,” Ben replied, even though he pretty much did.

 

“If you’ve got to hunt, you do it with a partner,” Sam insisted. “There’s no reason you have to go alone. You could have asked me.”

 

“You wouldn’t have agreed,” Ben pointed out.

 

Sam tossed another branch onto the fire. “You don’t know that. You were so fucking lucky, Ben. Do you know how many people that wendigo killed? Did you even know what you were looking for?”

 

Ben had a very vague idea of what a wendigo was from his dad’s stories, but it hadn’t been enough to give him a better idea of how to kill it.

 

Sam seemed to take Ben’s silence for an answer. “You didn’t, because you didn’t stop to ask, or do any research at all. You heard there were people dying, and you jumped in with both feet.”

 

Ben couldn’t dispute that assessment, even though he wanted to, and he said, “Someone needed to do it.”

 

Sam looked at him for a long moment across the fire, the flickering lights making him look sinister. “And now you sound like your dad.”

 

“That’s not exactly an insult,” Ben replied sulkily.

 

“No, it’s not,” Sam replied simply. “And because of that, I’ll ask what you think Mary would have done if you hadn’t survived.”

 

Ben felt a sharp pang, and tears formed in his eyes. “I know.”

 

“Okay. So you know,” Sam replied. “What are you going to do about it?”

 

Ben tipped his head back to look at the stars overhead. “I’m not going to do this again.”

 

“Well, you learned faster than I did,” Sam replied with some humor.

 

He rolled over on his side with some difficulty. “What do you mean?”

 

Sam poked the fire. “I told you, Ben. I went off half-cocked more than a few times. I nearly got killed, and I nearly got Dean killed, too. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Ben said. “I just thought—I wanted to prove I could do it.”

 

“Just because you _can_ doesn’t mean you _should_ ,” Sam countered. “That’s the lesson I had to learn the hard way.”

 

Ben nodded, feeling real regret. “I’m sorry.”

 

Sam nodded. “I know you are. Now, why didn’t you at least ask me about the disappearances?”

 

“Dad was sick, right?” Ben asked. “I wanted to show I could take care of things.”

 

Sam sighed and shook his head, laughing a little. “Well, you’re definitely a Winchester,” he muttered.

 

Ben grimaced. “Dad’s going ground me forever.”

 

“Probably,” Sam replied with a grin, “but right now, we’re going to eat, you’re going to sleep, and then we’ll head back in the morning.”

 

“Thanks for coming,” Ben replied.

 

Sam began to set up a tripod with a kettle. “Soup okay?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Ben replied. “As long as I don’t have to cook. I don’t think I can move much more. What are you going to do with the bike?”

 

“Load it in the back of Howl’s truck,” Sam replied. “I borrowed it for the occasion.”

 

Ben sighed. “You thought of everything.”

 

Sam looked at him from across the fire, the light throwing strange shadows on his face and eye patch. “I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive,” he replied. “Look, Ben, the life you’ve got at home, that’s what you’ve got to hang on to. Don’t worry about the monsters. They’ll always be there. Your family—they might not.”

 

“I know,” Ben replied miserably.

 

Sam smiled. “Your dad’s going to be around for a good long while. Dean’s the toughest guy I know.”

 

“You can’t promise that,” Ben objected.

 

“No, I can’t,” Sam admitted. “Life has a way of throwing the unexpected at you. But I can promise that you’re not going to save him by hunting alone in the middle of the Black Hills.”

 

Ben nodded. “I won’t do it again.”

 

“Damn right you won’t,” Sam replied with a smile. “I’m getting too old for this shit.”

 

Ben felt a pang—Sam and his dad and Cas weren’t getting any younger. “I don’t think I’m cut out for hunting.”

 

“Most people aren’t,” Sam replied. “When Dean gets over being mad at you, tell him that. He’ll appreciate it.”

 

Ben frowned. “I thought Dad would want me to be like him?”

 

“He wants you to have a life, and he wants you to be safe,” Sam countered. “That’s the important thing.” He started spooning soup into bowls. “Come on, eat up. The drive back is going to suck tomorrow.”

 

Ben took the bowl of soup and spoon gratefully, and listened to the crackling flames, to the sound of Sam moving around, and in spite of the pain he was in, he was okay.

 

And he was going home. He was going to see Mary again. That was the most important thing. That was all that mattered.


End file.
